


Young, But Daily Growing

by Pitry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pitry/pseuds/Pitry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it's a mid-life crisis, or maybe they did miss something when they were younger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young, But Daily Growing

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the folk song, more commonly known as "The Trees They Grow High".

“I can’t believe Rose will be finishing Hogwarts next month,” Ron sighed.

Harry shook his head. “You’re telling me. I’m looking at Al and think, were _we_ ever so young at that age? Even James - I still have to fight with him to tidy his room every day. He’s _twenty_. At twenty, I was - ”

“You were after a war and busy rebuilding,” Ginny pointed out.

“That’s my point!”

“It’s funny, though. That you should say that.” Hermione’s voice was quiet at first, and so far away. “I was just talking to my mum the other day, and she said - well, she asked if I ever regret it.”

“Regret what? Winning the war?”

“No,” she shot Ron a Look. “Rushing into life. Rushing into become adults. We won the war, then we all got married so fast, and she said - well, she asked if I don’t feel I missed anything. Maybe with everything happening so fast, there were things we didn’t get to explore.”

“Like what?” Ron demanded.

***

“I’ve never done this before,” Ron mumbled.

“What?” Draco Malfoy’s face was glistening with sweat, and he now leant on his arm to look at Ron. “Cheated on your wife? Or had sex with a bloke?”

“Cheated on my wife.” Ron’s face was turning as red as his hair.

Malfoy just rolled his eyes in response. “And since she’s the only person you’ve ever had sex with, I suppose that answers my other question, although, not so bad for a first timer - What?” he laughed at Ron’s annoyed expression. “Have you ever even had sex with anyone other than Hermione?”

“Yes!” Ron answered immediately, probably a bit too forcefully. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Well - sort of. One girl.”

“Didn’t you get married at eighteen or something?”

“Twenty one. And it was before I got together with Hermione.”

Malfoy snorted. “What, at Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, Lavender Brown.”

“Weren’t you sixteen?” He didn’t need an answer - Ron’s expression as enough of a confession. He roared with laughter. “That doesn’t count, Weasley.”

“And what about you then?” Ron asked, and he knew the words came out slightly too defensive. “Although, I guess you’ve slept with enough people. And cheated on your wife.”

“Actually, I didn’t,” Malfoy answered coldly. “Not until we split up. Looks like you now have more experience than I do - at least, on some areas.”

Ron didn’t answer. Instead, he sat up in the bed and started looking for his pants. This was turning out to be an even worse idea than he had originally thought. Malfoy did nothing to stop him.

“Why me, though?” Ron finally blurted out. “It’s not like you like me all of a sudden.”

To his surprise, Malfoy shrugged. “You’re not that bad looking, and you’re pure-blood. Why not?”

“Pure-blood? Really? That’s how you choose your partners?” Ron did not try to hide the disgust from his voice, simply cursed himself for not realising it earlier. He got up from the bed and fetched his wand. Malfoy gave the wand a wary look - worried Ron was going to hex him, no doubt, but as tempting as the idea was, Ron simply muttered, “Accio pants,” and started fumbling with his clothes. He ignored the way Malfoy was looking at him. In fact, he did his best to ignore Malfoy completely.

“Why not?” Malfoy asked all of a sudden. “As good a reason as any, I reckon. Better than some.” Ron was pointedly ignoring him. “And I had a good time with your brother, so I thought you couldn’t be that bad. Turned out I was right.”

_Now_ he got Ron’s attention, and Ron hated him just a little bit more, because he knew he was playing straight into his hands, but he couldn’t help it. “Which brother?” 

Malfoy didn’t answer. Ron turned to look at him, and saw that he had that small, satisfied smirk on his lips, just like he knew he would. “Which brother, Malfoy?” he asked again, making sure the wand in his hand was visible.

“Charlie,” Malfoy answered. “I thought about trying to get your sister into bed too, but then...”

“Then what?”

“Well, she doesn’t really like me, does she,” Malfoy said in an evasive manner.

“I don’t like you either, didn’t stop you with me.”

“Yeah, but you’re not your sister. Too much hassle with her. She _would_ have hexed me.”

Ron thought about this for a moment. There was something careful in Malfoy’s eyes, all of a sudden, some kind of caution that wasn’t there before. Even talking about Ginny like that had put him on his guard, and he had no problem taunting Ron even when Ron was clutching his wand and Malfoy wasn’t. So it couldn’t have been Ron’s reaction he was worried about, Ron realised - and then it hit him. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“You’re afraid of Harry,” he said.

Malfoy’s ugly expression was the only confirmation Ron needed, despite his muttered objections.

“You are! You’re afraid of Harry’s reaction.”

“The man’s the head of the Auror Office. He has enough against me as is, I don’t need to give him any more excuses,” Malfoy admitted at last. Wearing this little annoyed - and slightly worried - pout, Ron thought all of a sudden, he looked a lot more sexy.

He put down his pants again, still unworn, and sat back on the bed. Malfoy looked at him in confusion and suspicion, but still Ron thought he saw the shadow of wariness in his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to do it, but all of a sudden he was kissing Malfoy greedily, his hands travelling all over his body.

“What the - ” Malfoy broke free of the kiss. “You’re turned on by this!”

Ron shrugged. “As good a reason as any,” he said.

Malfoy considered this for a moment. “Better than some,” he conceded in the end, and returned Ron’s kiss.

***

“So what?” Ron asked quietly. “You regret us getting married?”

“Of course not!” Hermione looked scandalised for a moment, then sat down heavily. “You know I don’t.”

“Then what is this about?”

She paused, thinking about it for a moment. “I just wonder sometimes,” she said at last. “What it would have been like, to have a normal life.”

***

“Rosie’s going to sit her N.E.W.T.s soon. I never quite realised how old we’re getting, until she started panicking about the exams. I actually told her to relax and that she had loads of time, and then when she told me they were this year I just didn’t know what to say!” Hermione laughed. “And, of course, Hugo’s all stressed up about his O.W.L.s. I tried to tell him he’d do fine - he’s really clever, you should see his exam results! - but he can’t help but stress about it. Ron tells me it’s my fault, they got it from me,” she laughed again. “I guess they did. I don’t remember Ron ever stressing about the exams so much, or maybe he did and I was too busy being worried myself - what?”

Next to her, Dean was shaking his head and trying not to laugh. She ran her last sentence in her mind. “Oh,” she said. “Sorry. I shouldn’t talk about Ron, should I.”

Dean kept on laughing. “It’s not that,” he said at last. “That’s your problem, to be honest, not mine. I mean, I would have thought you’d avoid talking about your husband when you’re in bed with someone else, but that really is up to you.”

“What is it, then?”

“Do you remember when I asked you if you really wanted to do this?” he asked, turning serious all of a sudden. “I mean, you and Ron, you’re the perfect couple. Don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more in love with each other after all these years. That’s why I was confused when you came to me.”

“I know, I just need - ”

“- Some time away from it all, something to break the routine, yeah, that’s what you said.”

She was still confused. “Well, that was definitely not routine,” she said, and couldn’t help but smile as she passed her hand on his shoulder and back.

“Yeah, but Hermione, with the exception of those twenty minutes, you’ve been sitting here and talking incessantly about your husband and your children and your work. I thought it was guilt at first, but now...”

“Now what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t even know,” he said, then shrugged again. She studied the wedding ring on her finger for a moment.

“Why me?” he asked all of a sudden. “Out of all people, why did you come to me?”

“Why not? You’re my friend, I like you, I’ve always found you attractive...”

He still wasn’t convinced.

“And you’re Muggle-born,” she admitted at last. He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you miss it, every once in a while? Don’t you feel we had to give up more?” she asked. “Like - like watching television!” she gestured at the television set in front of them. “Like writing with pens. Like all those things we used to take for granted but we never do anymore. Rosie’s never written with a pen. They only watch television when they’re at their grandparents’. They think it’s something weird, it’s like a different world to them.”

He passed his hand softly through her hair, then let it rest on her cheek. “And yet,” he said, his voice as soft as his hands, “here you are, talking only about N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s and the Ministry of Magic and the Weasley shop in Diagon Alley.”

“I don’t know how to let go,” she blurted without thinking. “That’s what Ron always says, anyway.”

Dean laughed softly. “Sounds like he’s right. Maybe I should help you let go.” Just as she was about to protest, his lips found hers. She decided she could try and figure out her problems with the wizarding world a bit later.

***

“I don’t know, Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “Sounds to me like you’re looking for reasons to be - I dunno, unhappy with your life?”

“I’m not!” she answered immediately. He had expected her to protest, but perhaps, not in such a vehement way. 

Next to him, Ginny started playing with his hair. “You really aren’t curious?” she asked. “There’s nothing you’ve ever wanted to try? No dirty little secrets, some bedroom fantasies you’re secretly ashamed of?”

“Aren’t we too old for secret bedroom fantasies?” he asked, half-serious, half-teasing.

“Oh, you’re _never_ too old for secret bedroom fantasies!” she said, and he couldn’t help but smile.

***

Ginny whistled as Harry walked into the room. He really looked good in those dress robes. She knew it when they bought them, but this was the first time he actually got to wear them, and boy, did he look good. “You should wear these more often,” she said.

He grimaced, just as she knew he would. “Yeah, I don’t think so, not if it means more official dinner parties at the Malfoys’. I see _you’re_ not dressed.”

“I told you yesterday. Something came up. I’m not coming.” Her voice was as casual as it always was, but he wasn’t fooled. He froze for a moment, his eyes seeking hers. She pretended she didn’t notice. They both knew it was nothing but pretence, of course, but it was more comfortable that way. 

Slowly, he nodded. “Right,” he said uncertainly. “Well, have fun.”

“You too.” 

He left without giving her a goodbye kiss. 

Normally, she would have been upset, but today she had other things on her mind, and she was already cutting it short. It’s not that she had a lot to do, but still, she wanted to make sure everything was ready, and after all, Lavender was supposed to get there - _just about now_ , she realised when she heard the fire coming to life.

She had just finished changing to more comfortable robes, then went downstairs again, to meet Lavender. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi...” Lavender was looking around. “So odd,” she said, then shook her head.

“What’s odd?”

“Coming here for - well, this,” she said and gave a nervous laugh. “I’ve been in your house too many times for this to be anything but odd.”

“Well,” Ginny said with a small smile, “we could always go to your place.”

“Are you kidding me? Some of my kids are still at home!” She said, but the tension was broken and she laughed as well. “Where’s Harry?”

“That dinner party at the Malfoys’.”

“Ooh, I can’t believe you made him go there all on his own. Poor man.”

“Can we _not_ talk about Harry now?” Ginny didn’t mean to snap like she did, but really - trust Lavender to bring up Harry at a time like this.

“Oh, sorry,” Lavender answered, looking slightly abashed. “Still can’t believe you ended up - is it still cheating if he knows?” she asked.

Ginny thought about it for a moment. It had never occurred to her - she hadn’t considered it cheating at all. Harry knew. He agreed. He wasn’t very happy about it, of course, but he knew and agreed. It wasn’t cheating at all, she wanted to rebel. But maybe it was. “I don’t know,” she admitted heavily. Their conversation turned out to be a lot less sexy than she thought it would be. The bottle of wine she had prepared was still on the table and unopened.

Lavender must have realised some of that, because she went to the bottle, opened it with a wave of her wand, and poured them both a drink.

“Thanks,” Ginny said when she handed her a glass. Lavender nodded and sat down next to her. Somehow, her hand ended up in Ginny’s lap.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Ginny said and got up. Lavender’s eyes followed her around the room. “Maybe,” she agreed.

“Maybe it’d be better if you leave - I’m sorry, Lavender, this is going all wrong, and I know I said - ”

“No, it’s alright.” Lavender looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “Out of curiosity, what did you have planned?”

“Well, I didn’t really - ” Now Ginny felt truly foolish. “I just sort of made a list. Of everything I ever wanted to try and haven’t.”

“Can I see it?”

“It’s - well, there’s no point now, really, and - ”

“Can I see it?” there was an odd smile on Lavender’s lips. Actually, now that Ginny considered her lips, they were pretty nice, full, and whatever that pink lipstick she put on them was, it looked very good on her.

“Yeah, sure, if you’re already here, might as well,” she said, still looking resolutely at her lips, then handed over the list.

The first item made Lavender smile. The second one made her look pensive. The third one confused her. “You never tried this with Harry?” she asked. 

Ginny hesitated, then decided it would be foolish not to talk about it now. “We tried,” she said. “He doesn’t like it. Wartime hangups if you ask me, although he denies it.”

“Yeah, I wondered if he’d have a few.”

“A few!” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Harry’s - well, don’t get me wrong, he’s great with - well, _making love_ really, d’you know what I mean?”

“But sometimes it gets boring?” Lavender offered.

“Yup. Tender and comfortable and quiet and _boring_. And as far as Harry’s concerned it can all be cuddling afterwards. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, I really do, but sometimes he’s just driving me mad.”

With another smile, Lavender returned to the list. “Well, this I’m definitely _not_ going to do,” she said, and Ginny knew very well she was talking about item seven - well, she wasn’t sure about that one herself. “But the rest looks... well - interesting. Kinda hot,” she amended, probably because of Ginny’s expression, because, honestly, who’d use the word ‘interesting’ in that context? She was distracted, however, when Lavender got up and moved closer to her.

“Well,” Lavender said, “since I’m already here... unless you can’t get past _your_ hangups?”

Ginny couldn’t help but smile. It sounded like a challenge. She _liked_ challenges.

***

“I’m really not,” Harry said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else, “I’m really not curious.”

***

Pansy was going to simply _kill_ Daphne. What are friends for, if not to stop you from doing really stupid things at parties? She had the vague impression that Daphne _might_ have tried stopping her leaving the party with Potter, but obviously, she hadn’t made a good enough job of it, because here they were, breathless and sweaty, Pansy and Potter, _in her bed_.

He was sitting up now, leaning on the wall and studying her. She wasn’t quite sure how much he could see without those glasses of his - which had been tossed somewhere at some point - but he looked like he could see her well enough.

That must have been the coldest way anyone had ever looked at her after sex.

“So, Potter,” she smiled, ignoring the coldness in his eyes, “how come you ended up here?”

He raised an eyebrow and didn’t answer.

“Don’t you have a lovely wife waiting for you at home?” Ah - she knew _that_ look, alright, the way his eyes clouded for just a moment, the way his face contorted for a second, before he could mask it off. “Or is she with someone else.”

He looked like he was going to tell her to fuck off - but then nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Right now?”

He shrugged. “I think so,” he said.

“Who?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“Don’t know.”

He looked sincere enough. She considered this for a moment. “So what’s this?” she asked finally, then gestured at herself. “Revenge?”

“No, it’s not like that.” The coldness, at least, was gone from his eyes. He looked at her now almost apologetically. “I just thought... maybe she’s right, you know. We got married so young, maybe we did miss something and we don’t even know it.”

That explained it all - his regular, indifferent ignoring of her that had turned into reluctant flirting halfway through the night, the rough, needy sex, and how he had never kissed her, not before, not during, not after.

She shook her head. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Potter,” she said. “You’re really bad at this, aren’t you.” She now drew closer to him. With a swift move, and before he had the chance to move away, she sat in his lap. “You’re doing it all wrong.” She drew her face closer to him, then shifted, and started to move again slowly. He started moving with her. “You’ll never know what you’ve missed if this is how you choose your partners,” she whispered in his ear. “You need to love them, too.”

Her eyes met his for a moment and she could see it in his eyes still, even after all this time - still the anger, still the animosity, if dulled by the years. Still the memory of the words she had said all those years ago, those three words that were forever between them. She grabbed him, she pulled his hair and pushed his head to hers and kissed him hard. 

To her surprise, he kissed her back. And all of a sudden he pulled and moved and somehow they were flipped and he was now on top of her.

“And you?” he asked, his voice truncated by his heavy breaths, by their motion. “You’ve done such a good job of analysing me. But why are you here, Parkinson?”

She didn’t answer, not until they were no longer moving and he was breathing heavily, ready to pull away. Only then did she whisper in his ear, “Maybe I want forgiveness too.”

***

The house was dark when he got back. There was still light in the bedroom, but everywhere else was serene and quiet. Harry climbed heavily up the stairs, paused for a moment, then entered the bedroom.

Ginny was sitting in her usual spot, a book in her hand, reading quietly. Everything was peaceful.

“Hi,” he said, and hated the unsure note in his voice.

“Hi,” she answered and smiled and he allowed himself to breathe. “How was the dinner party?”

“Boring as usual,” he answered, and was relieved to hear that his voice came out normal and lighthearted. 

“Well, it’s over now,” Ginny said.

“Yeah.”

He stood there, still uncertain, for a few more seconds, then took off his clothes and got into bed. Ginny closed the book and turned off the lamp. The room was thrown into darkness all of a sudden. 

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you too,” she answered, and he smiled despite himself. He was home.

***

The four of them sat together in awkward silence. They weren’t even looking at each other - not really, anyway. Their heads were all in the right direction, but somehow, none of them had caught the eye of any of the others.

Hermione was playing with her coffee cup. Ron was playing with his fingers. Ginny, distracted, took another biscuit. Harry sighed.

“Hermione,” he said at last, “you know, next time you have this brilliant idea or something...”

“Keep it to myself?” she suggested.

“Something like that, yeah,” Ron added.

She caught his eye for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”


End file.
